Pandora's Box
by ClaryBackOffJaceIsMine
Summary: Pandora lives in a world of normality; school, drama, and friends. But when she meets a boy who introduces her to a whole new world inside reality, she isn't sure what to believe. Will she follow her dreams and be with the guy she fell in love with, or will she get swept up in Pandora's Box?


**Okay, so I am new here. Hello. Now this is a little like the Mortal Instruments. The characters sound alike, like the main character and the boy she meets, but I can assure you, I absolutely DID NOT copy the way they look like. For Pandora, I ALWAYS use the way she looks in all of the stories I write. Okay, for Cameron, I did sort of use the features of Jace, but his personality is completely different. Please comment and rate after you read. **

**(I do not own The Mortal Instuments, but I do own this story. IT IS MINE, MY PRECIOUS...)**

**Chapter One- Nightmares**

The light was blinding. Mountains were erupting, earthquakes, raging fires. The sounds of crying over loved ones, gone forever. This doesn't look like anywhere near Long Island, I thought, then again, no place on Earth would look like this. I hear strange battle cries and the sounds of wails and sobs, but not from a human, more like a creature of the dark, lurking in the shadows. Like a strange howl or a seemingly ancient roar, like a lion's only marked with age. I stand up, then immediately fall back down, my head spinning with nausea, phlegm rushing up my throat. I put my hand to my head and feel sweat dripping, and my forehead burning with fever. I peer around from the small burnt pine tree behind me. What on Earth?

I see men and women rushing around the dancing flames from the forest fires and slashing at enormous shadows with bright red flashing eyes, venomous stares in their hallow eyes. All of them were in black bodysuits with tight fitting black boots. The women had their hair tumbling down their shoulders and the men were dashing around, defending the children and the women. Sparks of fire were coming off of the blades they were holding; long silver blades with gems on the end, and some people, or whatever they were, were shooting arrows from shining silver bows with a strange different color aura coming off of each and every one. One particular boy was slashing at the shadows and holding them off.

He moved with incredible speed, leaping like a gazelle and being as graceful as a dancer, but still as destructive as a wrecking ball and as fiery as a flame. After what seemed like hours of watching them, I finally mustered the strength to stand up and walk over to another tree. My hands were blackened with ash and my clothes were covered in soot. My leg was bursting with pain as I stumbled over to a flaming tree trunk, trying to inch closer and closer to the boy. Finally, after ten minutes of constant pain and inching closer and closer, he turned. He saw me, only me. He didn't see the mask of a girl who was abandoned as a child or a hollow shell of a sixteen year old. He had the prettiest eyes. Eyes of molten gold that were fiery as could be, but his stare was still sincere.

He had golden hair, tumbling down to his shoulders in waves of gold. His hair appeared silver in the moonlight, specks of it tinkling in the night and falling towards the ground. Either that or it was the sparks coming off of his two shining blades that were bursting the shadows into just ripples of time, a scar on a wound; still there, but not nearly as visible or vulnerable. He slashed at it, gripping the swords and tossing them, sweeping them into giant arches and bringing them on top of the shadows' heads. "Pandora," he said, his voice touching me and caressing my heart with a voice that said, "it's alright, I won't hurt you", "wake up."

Oh great, just great. The first time I actually have something good in my life and it has to be a dream? I take a sharp rock that is glistening near the burnt tree stump and strike it down my arm. Blood comes pouring from the wound, but it doesn't hurt. It is for sure a dream. As I look to see where the boy has gone, I find him nowhere. Then out of the blue, he appears behind me and whispers in my ear; "Wake up." I feel my body spiraling and spinning until finally, I am laying in my familiar bed, with my best friend, Isabella, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"What happened? You were screaming bloody murder!" she said, as her voice calmed down to a slight hyperventilated breath. She put her hand on her chest and started rocking back and forth. Then she stopped and looked at me curiously. "Did you have a bad dream again?" She smoothed out her white flowing Aeropostale shirt and peered at me with her icy blue eyes. I tilted my head and laid it on my pillow.

"No, I just thought I heard something," I lied, "what time is it?" I said, as I rolled over and placed the soft down pillow over my head. She got up and sashayed over to my dresser, picking up the ten-year old lime green alarm clock and chucking it on my bed. I lifted up my covers and toss the pillow on the floor, listening to hear the flunk on the floor. FLUNK! And then I grab the alarm clock and look outside. It can't be past eleven, I thought, then I looked at the cubic clock; 12:07. Before Isabella can even blink, I am out of bed and rushing to my closet, basically throwing my dirty clothes around the room and tripping over mismatched shoes. After about thirty seconds of deciding and another ten to put on my clothes, I settle for an orange t-shirt, grey hoodie, black leather jacket, jeans, and some black converse. I busted the door open and flew down the stairs, Isabella trailing behind me, her feet skipping the stairs and staying as quiet as a mouse. By the time I was halfway down the stairs, the scent of Belgian pancakes with fruit and whipped cream filled my nose, as did the sweet smell of our homemade syrup and whole wheat French toast.

Mom was at the stove, crisping the bacon just the way I liked it. Nice and crispy like a woman from the 1960's hair sprayed hairdo. She had the table set; a red rose with dewdrops in a blue glass vase and a matching blue and red checkered tablecloth. The table was laden with food, some already eaten, and some was prepared on a cracked white and blue plate for me. My plate was filled with bacon, blueberry pancakes, and raspberries, plus a crystal glass of orange juice. She turned around and smiled at me, her freckles appearing to dance on her pink cheeks. "You're just in time," she said, "I was about to burn the bacon," although I knew that would never happen because she is the greatest cook in the world and would never perform such a simple task as burning a few measly pieces of bacon. Her red apron was billowing over her old red rock 'n' roll t-shirt and paint splattered jeans. She blew a wisp of red hair from her face and flipped the pan, sending the bacon flying onto a cracked white plate. She scooped the plate into her arms and placed it on the creaky maple wood table.

"Sorry," I said, with a hint of guilt, "I have to get to Max's poetry reading." I felt really bad for leaving her after she made me a nice breakfast, but she smiled and nodded, being very sincere; she understood.

"I'll save it for dinner then," she said as she scooped the bacon and pancakes into a Ziploc bag and put the raspberries back into the container and slid them into the fridge. I walked over to the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush, feeling the indents of the sulking wood. As I turned on the faucet, my mom walked into the room, leaning her side against the white, chipping frame. As the bristles scrubbed my teeth, she stared at me with her motherly stare. I grimaced. "I don't think you should go out today," she said, staring through my eyes and practically through to my soul, "I just don't think today will be safe. I just have this weird feeling, like…. you'll get hurt or something. I just don't think you should go." I peered at her, an icy stare in my electric green vaults.

"I'm going," I said, as stubbornly as I could, "I promised Max and I'm not letting him down. His band is playing and I don't care what you say. I'm. Going." I spit into the sink and washed it down, watching the soapy mixture stream down under the old spotted drain. She sighed and stared at the old crack in the crappy tile floor. She lifted her head up, looking intently to find my not-giving-up face, which I tend to do every time she says I can't go someplace even though I plan to go anyways. I walked around her, grabbing my tattered bag and slinging it over my shoulder. I planned to go even though she would probably stand against the door and sit on me. She followed me into the kitchen, almost stomping her feet like a little kid. She stared at me again, attempting to persuade me with her blue eyes, the ones I didn't inherit from her.

"Fine," she gave up, "you can go. But don't blame me if something happens. I have to go to work, so I should be back by three. Call me when you get home and if you need me," she said, as she opened the door a smidge and looked out to see the weather. She gave me a small peck on the cheek and opened the door all the way. As she walked out of the door, Isabella mysteriously appeared by my side again.

"Shall we?" she said, as she grabbed her brown Coach purse and opened the creaking brown glass door. I nodded, gently locking it and sliding checking to see if the spare key was in the spot underneath the flower pot. As we walked out into the fog, I clutched my jacket. Isabella seemed perfectly fine, comfortable inside her foax fur scarf. As we walked down the walkway into the cold and misty air, I walked right past our mailbox, still painted with 3 hands on it instead of 2, for my mom and I. I brushed my hand on the third handprint, the largest one. Love you, I thought to my head, and Isabella and I walked down the sidewalk, side by side.

Huh? Huh? You like so far? Please rate and comment and be sure to come back every Wednesday and Sunday, and I will be SURE to upload a new chapter every other day IF you are good people and comment. *clap, clap* I'll upload tomorrow then, come back soon! (LOL)

(P.S., fifteenth person to comment gets to ask me a question about the next chapter and I will answer at the bottom.)


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